


to keep you awake

by flimsy



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick visits Louis after the show.</p><p> <br/><i>“Good morning, darling,” Nick chirps, sets his phone to speaker and drops it in his lap. Louis groans something unintelligible and Nick pulls out onto the street. “I’ll be calling you at half eight, babe,” he continues. “So I thought I’d give you a little wakeup call.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	to keep you awake

Nick rings Louis just before he’s about to leave the house, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder, juggling his coffee tumbler and car keys and kicking the door shut with the back of his foot. Six rings later, when he’s in the car, Louis finally picks up and croaks a _hello?_.

“Good morning, darling,” Nick chirps, sets his phone to speaker and drops it in his lap. Louis groans something unintelligible and Nick pulls out onto the street. “I’ll be calling you at half eight, babe,” he continues. “So I thought I’d give you a little wakeup call.”

“Fuck you,” Louis says through the phone and he hangs. Nick frowns, avoids incoming traffic and tries to dial Louis again. He succeeds at an intersection and this time Louis picks up immediately. 

“Grimshaw, for fuck’s sake-” he starts but Nick cuts him off. 

“Do me a little favour,” he jokes. “And wear those white jeans when I call you. And don’t take them off?”

“What?” Louis yawns audibly and Nick smiles a bit, imagining his face. 

“The white ones that accentuate your voluptuous thighs like they’ve been painted on, basically.” He laughs and then steps on it when the street clears up. 

“Bugger _off_ ,” Louis hisses and hangs up. 

 

*

 

Nick hasn’t seen Louis since before he and the other boys left for Germany, and when he lets himself into Louis’ flat, Louis looks very fresh with his touched up hairdo and a little more tan than Nick knows he gets without helping along a little. He’s waiting by the door with his arms crossed, bare feet peeking out of the legs of his jeans, bunched up around the ankles. 

“I can’t believe you rang me at _five_ ,” he says as a greeting and Nick can’t help but grin because he sounds so _sour_ but he’s also wearing the jeans just like Nick told him to. He also shuts his mouth when Nick drops his bag and yanks him closer by his hip and nibbles at his mouth. 

“I can’t believe you actually wore those trousers. And picked up at five,” he murmurs, amused, against Louis’ lips and earns a slap on the arm for it. “You should mute your phone at night, Tommo, otherwise rude folks like me will never learn to stay away.” He grins and nips at Louis’ lip, then squeezes his hip a little. 

Louis leans back to look at him, brows raised, and then rolls his eyes like he knows that from this point on Nick is only going to get even more ridiculous. He does probably know, Nick thinks, because they’ve had one or two fantastic post-show shags where Nick wasn’t quite sure if Louis was rolling his eyes out of pure bliss or because he felt like punching Nick in the throat. 

“Did you make dinner, darling,” he says and that’s apparently the last straw. Louis makes an exasperated sound and pulls away. 

“It’s lunch time, Grimshaw,” he says curtly, “and if you’re here for _food_ , you’ll be disappointed.” He purses his mouth in a way that makes Nick very vividly recall the last time he had to use extraordinary measures to shut Louis up, and then turns on his heels and struts out, giving Nick quite the view of his bum. 

Nick takes off his shoes and his jacket and then follows after Louis into the living room to flop down on Louis’ ridiculously large and ridiculously coloured sofa, legs sprawled. 

“Bring me tea?” he calls out to Louis who’s in the open kitchen, rummaging around in drawers and chewing on what from afar looks like a biscuit. “And biscuits,” Nick adds.

Louis turns and looks at Nick over his shoulder, one brow cocked. “You’re the most terrible houseguest,” he simply states and then grabs a cup of tea for Nick and the box of biscuits anyway, setting both on the table before he joins Nick on the sofa. Louis, Nick has learned, always has a pot tea around the house; there’s always biscuits, too, and often teacake as well, and Nick likes being spoiled a little bit.

He reaches for his cup and takes a sip, then grabs a biscuit, watching Louis play with his phone, nibbling on a treat. His face is a bit scruffy and Nick barely resists the temptation to reach out and touch it, rub his thumb over Louis’ chin and watch his reaction. He finishes his cup of tea instead, finally leaning back against the sofa, eyes closed. He’s still buzzed, but suddenly, with Louis so quiet next to him, he feels a little calmer. 

“Hey,” Louis says after a moment and nudges his thigh. Nick opens one eye and looks at him then scrunches up his face. “I think our talk went pretty well this morning,” Louis continues and Nick can see in his face that this isn’t at all what he meant to say. 

“Wha’,” he says around the rim of his cup before he puts it down. “Did you think I would be talking about the way your thighs turn me on a whole lot?” He waggles his brows and reaches out to slide his hand up said thigh, scraping his nails over the far too thin material of Louis’ jeans. 

“Absolutely,” Louis says dryly. “I was very much expecting it.” He rolls his eyes and Nick huffs out a laugh. 

“Just tell me that you’re waiting for me to shag your brains out,” he says.

Louis tilts his head and gives Nick a long look. “Oh,” he says. “Cocky.”

Nick feels a smirk tug at his lips and then hides it in a smile because there’s too many things that he can reply that Louis is offering on a silver plate, and while Nick feels a lot less like running a marathon, his post-show high still has him craving _something_ , and unless that something involves getting kicked out within the next five minutes, Nick thinks he better not be a prick. 

“C’mere,” he says instead and pats his thighs, before sitting up a little. 

“What?” Louis asks and furrows his brows. 

“In my lap,” Nick elaborates patiently. “With your gorgeous bum in my lap, come, sit.” He meets Louis’ eyes and beckons with his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Louis pulls himself up and crawls into Nick’s lap. He settles down, his thighs on either side of Nick’s hips, jeans stretching. Nick grins up at him and smacks his thigh, then grabs onto his arse with both hands and squeezes until Louis makes a small sound right at the back of his throat that Nick knows is nothing but a signal of his crumbling resistance. 

He rests his forehead against Nick’s shoulder, breathing hard, and Nick turns his head a little and kisses his cheek. He slips his hand past the waistband of Louis’ trousers, then inside to get at the supple flesh, then whispers against Louis’ skin. “I wish there was a way I could fuck you through those jeans.”

Louis laughs quietly, but his hips twitch in Nick’s grip and Nick feels his cock stiffen against his stomach. “I’d rather you not. I quite like them,” Louis says. He rocks down again, with more intent, pushing into Nick’s hands and onto Nick’s cock and Nick has to bite his lip to hold back a moan. 

“Shit,” he gasps instead and giggles against Louis’ cheek. “Get off and get naked for me,” he continues and then slides one hand to the front of Louis’ jeans and squeezes the hard outline of his cock until Louis is gasping. 

He pushes at Nick’s chest and climbs off him a moment later, wiggling out of his T-shirt and jeans and then, meeting Nick’s eyes, also out of his pants. He’s a little flushed like he always is when he’s turned on, visible even through the tan, cock pink, and Nick sits up and frames his hips in his hands and draws him closer to kiss the tip of his cock with slightly parted lips. He can feel Louis’ knees buckle and looks up smiling, then pulls away. 

“Already going weak?” he asks, stroking Louis’ thigh. “No stamina. But then, you’re getting old, too, Tommo.”

Louis flicks a finger at his face and then climbs on top of him again, presses down and kisses him; he licks into Nick’s mouth like a cat chasing milk and Nick opens up, moaning and pulls him closer, trying to take off his shirt and his trousers at the same time. 

“Multitasking is difficult,” he pants when Louis pulls away. 

“Getting senile, I see,” Louis says with a grin and tugs Nick’s shirt over his head and makes quick work of his fly. Nick wiggles out of his trousers, one hand pressed tightly against the small of Louis’ back as he kicks them off, and then Louis is kissing him again, arse pressed tightly against Nick’s crotch. He’s moving too, short thrusts of his hips that hold a promise to something that Nick is really eager to get to already. 

“Shit,” he groans when Louis finally eases off. 

“Weak,” Louis says fondly. He allows Nick to touch his face, push his sweaty fringe out of his eyes, and then takes his pants off a little awkwardly. 

“You keep making me weak,” Nick starts but Louis darts down like a hawk and bites his shoulder. 

“No singing,” he orders. “Not during sex.”

“Oh, mh,” Nick replies. He rubs up a little, moaning when his cock presses into Louis’, and then shrugs. “I’ll serenade you later-” he continues breathlessly.

“Or never,” Louis answers and lies back on the sofa, pulling Nick over him by his hair; it stings a little, but in a good way, like most things do when Louis is involved. Nick manages to lose his pants somehow and settles between Louis’ thighs, grunting. This, he thinks, kissing a trail up Louis chest, around his perky, little pink nipples, making him squirm, to his collarbone, might be a favorite place of his because with Nick on top of him Louis just lets go and Nick really likes that. He bites down on a nipple and Louis whimpers, thighs tensing around Nick’s side for a moment. He tilts his head back to expose the arch of his neck, red from his blush. 

“Fuck,” Nick groans and rocks against him, latching onto his throat, sucking a little mark into it, before reaching onto the floor to fumble for a condom in his trousers. He curses when he can’t find one, dropping his forehead against Louis’ chest, wailing, and rubbing against him. 

“Bedroom,” Louis says. “We need lube anyway, too.” 

“Making the old man do all the work, huh?” Nick furrows his brows, but smiles at him, and then stumbles to his feet. The bedroom is just down the hall and he finds condoms and lube in a matter of seconds, and returns to the living room. Louis has sat up a little and has one foot on the backrest of the sofa, idly playing with his balls, his other hand dipping lower. His face is all flushed, hair sticking up, and Nick thinks he probably shouldn’t be looking as sexy as he does with his red-stained cheeks, but he looks dishevelled and unguarded, almost wanton. 

Nick crosses over to the sofa and climbs on top of Louis again, kissing him until they’re both breathless and clinging to each other. Louis shifts them, legs falling open, and Nick groans, impatient. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says before he can stop himself. He grabs the lube and he slicks up his fingers, then probes at Louis’ arsehole and pushes one finger inside. 

“Figured as much,” Louis replies a little belatedly but his voice cracks at the end just as Nick crooks his finger up and meets his eyes, wiggling it deeper inside. “Oh shit,” Louis moans and Nick adds another, knowing Louis can take it, and fucks into him, scissoring him open until Louis reaches out to grip his arm and starts riding up against his fingers, eyes wide, mouth slack. 

“Three?” Nick asks; he feels a little smug sometimes because once he has Louis where he wants him to be, there’s not much Louis won’t do, usually. 

Louis moans and squeezes his eyes shut, chest rising and falling fast, and Nick eases another finger into him, cock twitching. “Nick, now,” he wheezes out, voice thin, and Nick moves his fingers a little faster and changes the angle, watching Louis’ face. 

“Yeah,” he says and Louis drops his head back, whining while Nick fumbles to put on a condom and slick himself up. He pulls out and then aligns the head of his cock, body braced over Louis’. “Lou?” he asks and Louis doesn’t say anything, just wraps his legs around Nick’s middle and pulls Nick down until he is sinking into him. 

He’s hot and _tight_ because he’s always tight no matter how much Nick stretches him, and he comes off the sofa to meet Nick shallow thrusts.

“I need more,” he groans and Nick moans in response and presses his face against Louis’ neck. He grips Louis’ hips tightly and speeds up, thrusting into him harder and faster, until they’re almost rocking the sofa. He’s close, shivers of heat running up his spine, and then feels almost relieved when Louis reaches between them and starts stroking his own cock. 

He moans Nick’s name and comes over his stomach and Nick follows a moment after, blissing out, frozen in mid-thrust, fingers digging into Louis’ arse and thighs. 

They collapse in a tangle of limbs, hot and sweaty, and Nick sucks at Louis’ neck for a moment, then pulls him closer, head hazy. Louis is all pliant and curling against him, and Nick rests his head on his chest and closes his eyes. 

“Your head’s heavy,” Louis says after a while but Nick can feel his fingers in his hair, tugging, playing with it. 

“It’s because there’s so much in there,” he replies, smiling, and presses a half-kiss to Louis’ skin. 

“Yes, but nothing useful,” Louis says, but his voice is all soft and tired as though he’s about to fall asleep and Nick will forgive him because he knows Louis doesn’t mean it. 

“Hey.” He yawns and stretches a little, looking up. “Bed?” 

“At two?” Louis asks and shakes his head before his smirk turns into a smile. 

Nick shifts up and presses their lips together. “We don’t have to _sleep_ ,” he mumbles, grinning.


End file.
